The Man in Burgundy
by SonofForossa
Summary: Self insertion feels weird to write... Join Corporal David Walker in his quest to maybe not die in a universe he thought was fiction for the longest time... you know, if he can help it.
1. Chapter 1

The Man in Burgundy

 **Chapter One: Where and How?**

 **Well… I'm actually gonna do this. I'm gonna make a Self Insert. Something oft considered the lowest form of literacy, unless you're that guy who wrote Dante's Inferno.**

 **Well… let's go.**

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

"…Hello? You alive in there?"

That voice sounded oddly… familiar, I thought. Then I realized I was currently lying on the ground, feeling like I had tried to rugby-tackle an angry rhinoceros. Not the best feeling, let me tell you.

I forced my eyes opening, despite feeling drowsy, and looked at the face above me. It was a golden helmet, with matching golden visor, and it resembled a BMX helmet in overall shape, including the little brim over the visor. I realized I was also wearing a helmet, and one that cut off my peripheral vision on the bottom and top, but not on the sides.

I groaned and shifted my position, realizing there was a rock digging into my lower back. I rolled onto my stomach and pushed off the ground, rising to my feet with relative difficulty, stumbling once I was up. I turned to look at the armoured figure.

"Who the hell are you, and where am I?" I asked, getting straight to the point. I was confused, and had no time for games.

"I'm Grif." The guy responded. Hold on a sec, Grif? Where had I heard that name before? "You're in our canyon."

"And where is this canyon?" I asked, annoyed.

"Some planet we crashed on. I dunno, if I started keeping track of every planet I've been on, I'd be still counting." Grif responded, shrugging. "And who the hell has time for that, anyways?"

"Some planet…" I mused, thinking. Golden armoured dude named Grif, crashing on a planet, stuck in a canyon… oh piss.

Was I in Red vs Blue? Seriously? I mean… this could be kind of cool, but… I was seriously in a fictional universe? Well, I supposed I could have an advantage, having watched the series and all… wait, didn't they crash in Season Eleven? And then there was Season Twelve… oh shit. I could probably use Seasons Eleven and Twelve as guides for what was going to happen, but Season Thirteen would be unexplored territory. I would be going in blind.

Whatever, I supposed.

Now all I had to do was make up a believable lie. I played role playing games enough, I supposed, so coming up with a believable life story shouldn't be too hard.

"Listen, I was on the ship too. UNSC cargo freighter, right?" I asked.

"Yeah something like that. I don't remember anyone who looked like you being in the ship, though." Grif said.

"It WAS a pretty big ship." I replied, stressing the past tense. "I never saw anybody who looked like you either."

"Huh… good point." Grif admitted, nodding.

"Grif! Where are you?" There was that familiar Texan drawl. Sarge.

I saw the shotgun wielding team leader round the corner of the canyon, seeing me standing with Grif. He raised the shotgun.

"Ah! Who are you?" He asked, pointing the tubular black firearm at me. I raised, my hands.

"Corporal…" I paused. What the fuck should I say my name was? "Corporal Walker, sir! Corporal David Walker!" That would probably do.

"Are you red? Or… blue?" He asked, noticeably filling the name of his azure counterparts with loathing.

"Sir, perhaps you didn't notice, but my armour's burgundy." I said, gesturing to my dark red armour. I had realized it was the Warrior pattern armour from Halo, mostly, with Scout pattern shoulderpads. This was what my character looked like in Halo 4, I reminisced.

"Hmmm… maybe you're a spy!" He said, sounding almost excited at the prospect.

"Well, my armour's a shade of red. If that's not good enough for you, maybe I will go see these 'Blues'." I said, turning to walk away.

"Woah, that is a BIG gun!" I heard Grif say. I reached over my shoulder, feeling the hilt of a weapon of some sort. I pulled it up and drew it, before inspecting it.

Holy shit. I had a SAW. The bringer of demise, the terror of a thousand online Slayer matches, the Saw. Seventy-two rounds, three-point-five second reload speed, powerful enough to kill a horse with a short burst, the SAW.

"Yeah, it's my SAW." I said, deciding to go for impressing Sarge. Every guy likes big weaponry, right? "I nicknamed her Very Good Advice."

"You named your gun?" Grif asked, still staring at the LMG.

"Yeah. I've had her for a while, killed a bunch of Blues with her, and grew attached to her, so I named her." I replied.

"How many Blues have you killed?" Sarge asked, lowering his shotgun.

"Twenty or so." Well, that was my killcount in most Halo games, so I decided to use it.

"You know what… you can stay." Sarge said, nodding. "Welcome to Red Team. Our base is over there."

He pointed to the other end of the canyon, and I saluted in what I considered to be an acceptable display of respect, before following Sarge and Grif to the tiny bunker they called a base. I had no idea how I got here, or what I was supposed to do, but damned if I wouldn't make the most of it.

 **()()()()()**

"Sarge, where the hell'd you find this guy?!" Simmons asked, even as I blasted away more targets with Very Good Advice.

Sarge had decided I had to 'prove I wasn't no durn stinkin' Blue!' by showing him how well I could shoot, reasoning that only Red troopers could shoot well.

Target practice, as it turned out, was fairly easy. The Warrior pattern armour was built for compensating for recoil from big guns like Very Good Advice, and as thus she was pretty easy to aim and fire in bursts. I was a halfway decent shot as well, and so far no-one could match my score.

"I've been part of the Red army for a good few years, and been using Very Good Advice here for most of that time." I replied for my new boss, ceasing my fire and looking at the Maroon armoured soldier. ('Soldier' in the largest quotation marks known to mankind.)

"Why did you name your gun? It's not like it's a person or anything." Simmons asked, looking at the LMG. "And why do you get an LMG?"

I looked at the fairly scrawny man. "One, don't insult Very Good Advice. She's got feelings too." Well, not really, but she reminded me of my own gun, back when I was in the military myself, in my old life. I liked that gun, and had nicknamed it Very Good Advice as well. "Two, I have an LMG because I know how to shoot one. As a matter of fact, I have an LMG because I can shoot, period."

"Oh, cold." I heard Grif say, as I stared at Simmons.

"I can probably shoot better!" Simmons said, voice full of weak bluster.

"Fine then. Ten targets, fastest time wins." I said, crossing my arms.

"What're the targets?" He asked, looking at the makeshift target range.

"Those cones at the end of the range." I said, gesturing for him to go first.

To be fair, he did alright. He took out all the targets with his Battle Rifle in about a minute, give or take. But then it was my turn. I lined up my first shot, pulled the safety, and proceeded to hold down the trigger while moving the barrel from left to right. All the targets fell over in less than ten seconds. I turned to look at Simmons.

"Any more insults for my gun?" I asked, looking at stunned man.

"Umm… no." He said, stepping backwards slowly. I grinned beneath my helmet, before slipping the LMG back over my shoulder and holding out one hand. Simmons took it and shook it, after some hesitation.

"The name's David. Corporal David Walker." I said.

"P-Private Dick Simmons." He replied, and I was tempted to reply with 'I know'. I didn't though. I didn't need my only allies in this universe thinking I was a nutjob.

"Nice to meet you, Simmons. Since your boss over there seems a bit… preoccupied, mind telling me what the Blue situation is around here?" I asked. "Normally, I'd be knee-freaking-deep in bullets and angry cobalt dressed dickheads."

"Well, we're pretty cool with the Blues around here, mostly because they have a Freelancer in charge of their team, and we can't beat him." Simmons replied. "That and we're kind of friends at this point."

"Friends with Blues, eh? That seems pretty odd." I said. "And a Freelancer too? You guys are lucky to still be alive."

"Nah, Washington's an okay guy. I mean; he's still a dick, but he's alright." Simmons said.

"So, by 'friendly', do you mean 'not-shooting-at-each-other' friendly, or 'hey-there-how's-it-going-buddy' friendly." I asked.

"'Hey there how's it going' friendly." Simmons answered.

"Well then, I may have to meet these Blues. They sound like… interesting sorts." I said, trying to hide the fact that I was lying through my teeth.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." Simmons laughed.

 **()()()()()**

"So, let me get this straight. You were aboard the Cargo Ship, we just HAPPENED to never see you, and you just HAPPENED to be found now?" Agent Washington asked, looking at me.

"Yeah, pretty much." I replied as nonchalantly as I could.

"Well… I don't really believe you, but I suppose you can stay with the Reds." He said, looking at me funny. "But try anything suspicious, and I'll shoot you myself."

Well, he was officially terrifying. Especially when there WASN'T a screen between him and my vital organs.

"Whatever you say, sir. So long as you don't throw me out." I said, legitimately grateful.

After all, I didn't really want to be eaten alive by whatever it was lived on Chorus.

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

 **Well… um… tell me if it sucked? I guess?**

 **Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

The Man in Burgundy

 **Chapter Two: In Memoriam**

 **Alright, first, a few notes.**

 **-I only recently realized that the main character of 'Hey You, Electric Blue''s name is Walker as well. This is a complete coincidence, my apologies to anyone who was confused.**

 **-The plot for this story is already basically planned out, spanning seasons Eleven and Twelve, though Thirteen is a bit of a wildcard.**

 **-And finally, it is unlikely I will be adding any other OC's, other than perhaps a few side characters. I like working with a tight, concise cast.**

 **Let's go!**

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

" _Contact on our nine o'clock!"_

" _David, watch your six!"_

" _Light the motherfuckers up!"_

" _Holy shit, there's a lot of them!"_

" _Watch your ba-AAGH!"_

" _Nathaniel!"_

" _Jesus Christ, there's too many!"_

" _Just keep shooting, you sorry excuses for soldiers!"_

" _Sarge, we're fucked!"_

" _Shut it, Mark, and keep shooting!"_

" _Guys, Nathaniel's down!"_

" _I'm trying to call in a medevac, but there's too much interference!"_

" _David, where the fuck are you going?!"_

" _DIE, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"_

 _I sprinted out of cover, LMG in my hands and spraying out a hail of bullets, tearing anything in front of me to shreds. I felt the weapon click in my hands as it emptied, and I threw it aside, grabbing at my sledgehammer I had over my shoulder constantly._

 _I saw the first enemy rise from cover, brandishing his rifle, and swung my hammer with all my strength, seeing his jaw splinter beneath the head as the shock reverberates up my arm. His companion charged me with a knife, holding the shining steel blade over his head. I roared, a call promising death, and spun on my heel, bringing the hammer crashing into his shoulder, feeling bones splinter and shatter beneath my strength._

 _The knife-wielding man went down screaming in agony, even as I leapt over his pain-wracked body and charged the last guerilla. The man held a rifle in his hands, an AK-74, if my estimates were correct, and pulled the trigger, the muzzle flash lighting up my face as my hammer struck his skull-_

 _()()()_

BLAM!

I was torn from less tha peaceful sleep in the corner of the main room by loud cannon fire. I immediately rolled out of my surprisingly comfortable sitting position, grabbing my gun mid-roll, and rising into a standing position, before sprinting out of the front door. I found myself staring down the barrel of a tank cannon.

"Holy fuck!" I screamed, rolling to the right and bringing Very Good Advice up in an arc, nearly firing before I realized who was in the cockpit. "Sarge?"

"Oh, hello there Corporal!" The red armoured officer replied, looking at me. "We're just-"

"HEY! WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON OUT HERE?! WHO'S SHOOTING AT US!" I heard Grif yell, as the gold armoured soldier walked out of the base.

"It's just Sarge, Grif." I called back. "Though I have to ask, why are you shooting our base?"

"Because the base is in terrible condition, and in need of renovations!" Sarge said, before firing the cannon again, nearly hitting Grif, who screamed before running back inside.

"WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!" Agent Washington yelled, as he sprinted towards us.

"Well if it isn't our old friend Agent Washington." Sarge said, looking at Washington. This resulted in him also pointing the cannon at the light blue and yellow armoured ex-freelancer.

"Don't try to butter me up." Wash replied, pausing for a moment before adding; "And don't point that at me."

"We're just using the tank for a little… construction work, I suppose." I said, looking at Washington. "I honestly have no idea, I just woke up."

"And which of my men authorized this?" Washington asked, the rest of us remaining silent. Wash sighed. "It was Caboose, wasn't it."

"Probably." The ever present blue idiot answered.

Washington only sighed. "Sarge, get out of the tank."

"Absolutely not! Position's nine-tenths of the law, and the other tenth's a tank. I've got both." Sarge replied.

"Your quarters are fine!" Wash said exasperatedly.

"YEAH! SO GET OUT OF THE TANK YOU SENILE OLD-" Grif's tirade against Sarge was ended abruptly with a blast from the tanks main cannon. "SON OF A BITCH!"

"Sarge. Out of the tank. Now." Wash said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

"My turn next!" Caboose said excitedly.

"Caboose, be quiet." Wash said.

"…My turn next." Caboose whispered. I couldn't help but smile at his reasoning.

"This is an outrage!" Sarge said, jumping out of the tank. "Blue base is directly beneath the crash site, and has an unfair advantage!"

"Sir, we're not even fighting!" I said. "We're literally just waiting for rescue! While in bases on opposite ends of a canyon. Divided into teams based on colour. While heavily armed…"

"But maybe it's just in our nature to fight." Sarge said, sounding oddly philosophical. "It's almost instinctual! If we're not trying to stab each other in the back, we'll surely die."

"Dear God I hate you." Wash muttered, shaking his head.

"That's the spirit!" Sarge said.

"We may be peaceful, but you are still way closer to the food storage than we are, and that is something I will not stand for." Grif said, having apparently recovered from getting blown up.

"Grif, you wouldn't stand for anything." I said, looking at the overweight man. "You're too freaking lazy."

"If you were a few feet closer, you'd be sorry." He muttered, sounding hurt. I grinned beneath my helmet.

I watched Washington and Sarge finish their argument until Wash left, taking Caboose with him. Sarge walked over to us.

"Men, we have a problem." He said, looking at the three of us.

"Is this about Red Base, sir?" I asked, looking behind me at the makeshift shelter. "Because, to be honest, it's an easy fix. We just need to move the rain tarps to the roof, and take some more of the hull plating to replace it on the wall."

Sarge, Grif and Simmons just stared at me silently, in what seemed to be either awe or confusion. I shifted beneath their attention, feeling uncomfortable.

"Well… if you want to try and do that…" Simmons seemed almost reluctant to approve, even as Sarge nodded appreciatively.

"You see Walker, this is why I like you so much. Straight to the point, no dancing around the issue like SOME people I could name." Sarge said, looking pointedly at Grif and Simmons.

"I don't know, so long as I don't have to help." Grif said, grunting and walking back into the base.

"Well then… I guess I'll get started." I said, setting off towards Blue base.

 **()()()()()**

"Sixty-eight… sixty-nine…" Tucker groaned.

"Tucker, you can't keep stopping at sixty nine." Wash said.

"No, this time my legs went out!" Tucker replied, sounding desperate.

"Hey, Agent Washington!" I called at the light blue armoured freelancer, seeing him talking to Tucker.

"What do you want?" He asked exasperatedly, looking at me.

"I just wanted to know if I could borrow your welding kit." I said.

"Why do you want my welding kit?" He asked, looking pointedly at me.

"Because I'm going to work on Red base. I want to replace the rain tarps with metal hull plates, and move them to the roof." I said, gesturing in the general direction of the Red base. "I'll need a welding kit to keep everything together."

"…Alright, but bring it back once you're done." Wash replied, and I inwardly sighed in relief.

"Thanks." I said, before pausing for a moment. "Where exactly would I find the welding kit?"

"Follow me." Washington sighed, before walking towards Blue base. "Tucker, I want five laps around the canyon."

"Why isn't Caboose doing anything? Shouldn't he be doing dumbbell rolls or inverted pushups or something?" Tucker asked.

"Caboose is having one of his… off-days." Wash replied.

"Oh." Tucker said, all arguments ceasing.

"What do you mean, 'off-days'?" I asked, imitating confusion to the best of my ability.

"You'll see." Wash said, before walking up the ramp to the base. "Tucker, remember, five laps."

"I still hate you!" Tucker yelled as he ran off.

"When have you not…" Wash sighed, before beckoning for me to follow him.

As we walked up the ramp, I found myself reflecting on last night's dream, wondering whether it had been a nightmare or some sort of memory. That second thought sent shivers running up my spine. Had I died before? In the spur of the moment I looked at my hand, half expecting to see dead, rotting flesh. Nope, just my gauntlet. Surprise surprise.

A minute or two later and we were standing in a surprisingly neat storage room, and Wash was handing me a welding kit. I looked at the tool, before looking back up at the blue armoured ex-Freelancer, who seemed to be very intent on studying me. I coughed.

"Umm… can I help you?" I asked.

"Where did you really come from?" He asked, in a tone that brook no argument. "I want the truth."

"What do you mean?" I asked, acting confused. "I came from the ship, same as you guys."

"And before that?" He asked, leaning towards me.

"Umm… I was stationed in Outpost C-14!" I blurted out, Wash seemingly accepting the answer.

"Interesting, considering C-14 was destroyed by Insurgency forces over a year ago." He said, and my heart sunk. "Now that the customary lies are out of the way, answer truthfully."

"Ugh… I don't know how I got here, and you're not gonna believe what I say, but the last thing I can remember is being shot." I said.

"So… amnesia?" Wash said, tone amused. "Interesting, UTAH, considering you were stabbed, not shot."

"Wait, what?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh come on, Utah. Did you really think you could fool me with that 'I can't remember' bullshit?" Wash asked, stepping closer to me. "You abandoned the Project, stole an AI, and now you just so happen to show up in the same canyon as me? I don't believe it."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" I said, absolutely confused and simultaneously terrified at the fact Wash had a gun out, and I still had Super Good Advice on my back.

"Take off your helmet." Wash said, as I hurried to comply. I pulled off the Warrior class helmet to reveal my clean shaven face, mangy mane of brown hair and eyes my former drill sergeant had described as 'the deepest shade of blue she had ever seen'. "So it is you…" He breathed, looking over my eye.

Out of instinct, I brushed my hand against that part of my face, feeling a small gouge. I took my helmet and examined my reflection in the white visor, seeing a large scar running the length of my left brow. My eyes widened, and my hand flew up to it again.

"I-I don't know where that came from!" I said, incredibly confused by this turn of events. Was I a Freelancer? Was I dead? Was I just really, really fucking drunk and dreaming about this whole thing?

I didn't fucking know anymore, and I fell to my knees.

"I… what… who…" My mind was almost shattered. It was bad enough being stuck in the universe of a FUCKING WEB SERIES, but now I apparently had some sort of double amnesia? I couldn't recall anything about being a Freelancer, but I had scars I didn't recognize and armour that was clearly more advanced than the stuff the Reds and Blues were wearing.

I could barely remember my previous life either, now that I thought about it. I could remember big stuff, my name, my age (twenty-seven), my looks, my sexual preferences, a few names, a few days, but everything else was drawing a blank. What the fuck was going on?

I realized Wash was looking down at me, and I looked up at him, on the verge of tears.

"I don't even know who I am anymore." I said, rising to my feet. "I don't know jack shit about my life before now, all I can remember are a few days, a few names."

"What day did we accidentally see South naked?" He asked. I genuinely wished I had an answer, that sounded dually awesome and terrifying. All I could do was shrug.

"I have no goddamn idea." I said. "I can barely remember my life before the time I apparently spent as a Freelancer, and I can't even remember anything from that period."

Wash looked genuinely confused as well, and removed his helmet, allowing me to see his face. His brow was furrowed in puzzlement, but I found the sight of his face sent me into a shock. My head jolted back, and it felt like lightning was racing up my spine, into my skull, jumpstarting my memories.

 _()()()_

" _Welcome to Project Freelancer, Agent Utah." The Director said, in his typical Texan drawl. "These are your teammates."_

 _I looked over the assembled super soldiers. A man missing an eye was grinning at me, clad in tan armour. A blonde man in purple and a blonde girl in pink were both looking at me, the man clearly examining me as the woman just scowled. The next in line was a grey haired man clad in blue, a welcoming smile on his face. After him was a redheaded woman clad in cerulean, a cold look of judgment on her face as she looked me up and down._

 _The man next to him was interesting, clad in gray and yellow, looking at me with curiosity. It was his face that got my attention, though, surprisingly youthful for a project like this. His brown hair and blue eyes were similar to my own, and it felt like I was looking at the twin I had never had._

 _I realized the Director was speaking, and quickly turned to look at him._

" _Carolina, and the last in line here is Washington. Your other teammates are either incapacitated or off on missions." He said, before looking at me. "You will be bunked with Washington."_

" _Understood, sir." I said, nodding, before looking back at my unlikely twin. This would be interesting._

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

 **Well, that was fun to write, and almost twice as long as Chapter One! Thanks to the almost ridiculous number of reviewers I received, and thanks to the horde of people who already followed this story. See you later!**


	3. Chapter 3

The Man in Burgundy

 **Chapter 3: Man and Machine**

 **Time to reply to the review of one chiufan95:**

 **David hasn't even been in a combat situation yet. He hasn't shown how good of a fighter he is, merely that he A) knows how to fire a gun and B) is of adequate intelligence. David Walker is a fusion of myself, Caleb Walker, and my best friend, David Booker. David is in the military, and I am an intelligent human being. Together, we are David Walker, whom you are reading about.**

 **David Walker is a competent human being in the Red vs Blue universe, a universe where the differences in capability and power are as radical as the difference between Joe Schmo and Batman. David is a middleman, someone who isn't as powerful as , say, Carolina, but is more intelligent/capable than the Reds and Blues.**

 **Anyhow, that aside, let's go!**

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

"What did you do to him?" Sarge asked, looking at the cobalt armoured ex-Freelancer.

"I beg your pardon?" Washington replied, looking at the red armoured soldier.

"What did you do to Walker?" Sarge repeated. "He's been all moody ever since he came back from his visit to Blue base."

"I will have you know I did absolutely nothing." Washington answered, stepping towards the old man. "Walker, or Utah, as he should be known by, is very, VERY confused, messed up and just plain scared right now."

"Exactly. Because you did something to him… wait, what was that about Utah?" Sarge asked, tilting his head sideways slightly.

"David Walker was a Freelancer, known as Agent Utah. He was a half decent one too, if my memory serves correctly." Washington said. "Not as good as a certain red-head, but he knew what he was doing and could fight just fine."

"So Walkers one of them Freelancers?" Sarge said, sounding confused. "I suppose that explains why he keeps muttering about states in his sleep."

Wash looked up at that. "He does what?"

"When he's asleep, he keeps muttering about states. Colorado, Rhode Island, Texas… I thought they were all Freelancers." Sarge explained.

"Yeah, Rado and Rho were his best friends. Hell, Colorado and he were practically dating by the time she…" Wash trailed off, realizing he was supplying personal information to _Sarge_.

"By the time she what? Ran off? Proclaimed her love for another man?" Sarge asked, almost bouncing up and down.

"No, before she died." Wash snapped, surprising Sarge with the anger in his voice. "She got killed, and Utah went freaking nuts. Signed up for an AI, got assigned one called Iota after Carolina…" He trailed off again.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Sarge asked.

"Doing what?" Washington replied.

"Cutting yourself off in the middle of sentences." Sarge explained, as though repeating the concept to a small child.

"Because you don't need to know half the stuff I've nearly told you." Wash replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a radio tower to work on."

And with that he walked away, leaving Sarge standing in the middle of the canyon, with a puzzled look on his face and a furrowed brow.

"Sometimes I worry about that boy…" He muttered, walking back to base.

 **()()()**

" _Rado, you've got to be kidding me." I exclaimed, even as the excited girl led me through the decks of the Mother of Invention._

" _Nope, I'm completely serious! You NEED to see this!" She said, a massive grin on her face. "I know you and Rhode were busy flirting…"_

 _I started sputtering at that. "We were not flirting!" I said, throwing the arm Colorado didn't have in her hand into the air. "We were just… talking." I finished lamely._

" _Whatever you say." Rado replied, rolling her eyes. "But you need to see this!"_

" _Fine, I'll come." I said, pulling my arm from her surprisingly strong grip. "But stop dragging me around like a reluctant four-year old."_

" _Okay." Rado said, sounding almost disappointed._

 _I followed her through what felt like miles of corridors and buildings, before we finally reached the place she had been so excited over. She barely paused to tap in the entry code, before jogging through the door. I walked in after her, and paused for a moment, taking in my surroundings._

 _Stars. There were lots and lots of stars. We were in some sort of observation deck, mounted on the outer hull, and I was currently facing a massive wall of glass that seemed to loom over me, the entire thing filled with stars. Colorado was already sitting in front of the enormous window, and I gently sat down beside her, awestruck by the view in front of me._

" _It's… it's beautiful." I said simply, unable to say anything more._

" _I told you so." Rado replied, giving me a cheeky grin._

 _I didn't reply, and she turned back to the window. We sat for a few seconds before gently, almost gingerly, she leaned onto me, placing her head onto my shoulder. I hesitated before looping my arm around her shoulder, and she leaned even further into the embrace, sighing contentedly._

" _I love you." She sighed, the sound almost like a whisper._

" _I love you too." I replied._

 _()()()_

I jolted awake, noting that I; A) was in the corner again, B) was holding Super Good Advice like a teddy bear and C) my face was covered in dried tears. I sighed and stood up, pulling on my helmet, concealing any emotion.

"Hey, Walker." Simmons said, walking into the room. "I thought I should tell you, Sarge has claimed half the base for himself."

"Wonderful." I sighed, leaning back. "So we're stuck living with Grif?"

"Yep." Simmons replied.

"Well, I'm going to go outside." I paused. "And probably stay there until the end of time."

"Listen, just don't walk into the room without knocking. Ever." Simmons shivered, the tiny motion visible through his armour, and I couldn't help but sympathize. I had only known Grif for a few days, but his living habits were disgusting. And Simmons had been stuck with him for years! It was a miracle the maroon-armoured man hadn't committed suicide yet.

"Point taken." I replied, before holstering Super Good Advice on my back. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Simmons didn't reply, merely nodding as he tilted his head upwards slightly, obviously reminiscing about… something. I wasn't sure what, but he was remembering something.

I stepped out of the door, into the canyon, and pulled of my helmet again, revealing my face to the world. I took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh jungle air, before exhaling in a sigh, looking up to the sky.

"I have no idea what I did out there," I began, whispering to myself. "But I will find out."

I closed my eyes, smiling simply. I would know. I would know, because I was David Walker, also known as Agent Utah, and I was stronger than some bullshit amnesia. I would do this, I would accomplish this goal, and I would find out what the fuck was going on with my life.

 _()()()_

" _How many of these fuckers are there?!" Rhode screamed, firing his battle rifle wildly at the entrenched insurgents._

" _I don't know, but their Human Resources department has been working overtime!" I replied, firing Super Good Advice in a long spray of bullets stitching across the far wall._

" _Very funny, Utah!" Colorado called, kicking one rebel in the stomach while firing her two magnums at his buddies._

 _Bullets flew over my head as I sprinted towards their lines, low to the ground, firing Super Good Advice from the hip. I reached them just as one man started to reload. I brought the LMG around in a vicious arcing swing, cracking the butt of the weapon across his jaw, denting his helmet and sending him spinning away._

 _Colorado rolled beneath the punch of one rebel, rising to a kneeling position and firing rapidly into a cluster of white-armoured enemies, before turning with a sweeping kick at the first man's legs, dropping him to the floor, where she put a bullet in his head._

 _I tackled another rebel to the ground as he aimed at her, rising to my knees and bringing my fist down on his head once, twice, three times, each punch punctuated by a satisfying 'WHAM!' and his head ricocheting off the steel floor. I fired Super Good Advice one handed into another man's torso, spraying blood and bits of organs across the wall behind him._

 _Two more rebels fell away, each ones collapse marked by the 'DRRT' of Rhodes battle rifle, the man calling out a number for each kill. He was around seven, and I called back._

" _Ten!" I yelled, as I broke a rebel's neck, before Colorado was yelling at us both to shut up with the games and keep fighting._

 _After we finished off the few remaining insurgents, I pulled off my helmet along with Rhode, both of us fist bumping, before I dropped the bomb._

" _Seventeen." I whispered into his ear, his face morphing into a frown._

" _Twenty-three." A different voice answered, and I looked to see Colorado leaning in my face. "And three assists."_

 _()()()()()()()()()()_

 **Hello there, folks! Thanks for reading again, and I will see you later!**


	4. Chapter 4

The Man in Burgundy

 **Chapter Four: The List and The Challenge**

 **Well, here I am again, with more The Man in Burgundy! (Now with forty-percent less calories!) I just wanted to thank WargishBoromirFan for his frequent reviews, and all the people who have favourited/followed this thing.**

 **Let's go!**

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

" _Don't." I warned, looking Rhode in the eye._

" _But it'll be fun!" The oblivious Freelancer said, grinning._

" _Rhode, you will regret this almost immediately, and I can't be held responsible for what will happen to you." I replied, shaking my head._

" _But it's just a rubber ducky!" He protested, showing me the yellow toy._

" _Your master plan is to throw a rubber ducky into South's shower." I said, sighing._

" _It'll be funny!" He said._

" _It will result in your demise." I said, shaking my head again._

" _Oh, stop being such a worry-wart. You ready, Wash?" He asked, looking at my roommate._

" _Let's get this over with." The grey and yellow armoured man sighed, shaking his head._

" _That's the spirit!" Rhode said, oblivious to Wash's annoyance._

 _i listened to the pair of morons footsteps gradually getting quieter as they walked to their deaths, before seeing my favourite green-armoured Freelancer._

" _Hey Colorado." I said, waving._

" _Hey Utah. Where are Wash and Rhode headed in such a hurry?" She asked, watching the two jog down the hall._

" _They're going to throw a rubber ducky into South's shower." I answered._

" _Huh. Well, see you at the funeral!" She said, cheerfully waving._

" _That's what I said!" York called from across the hall._

 **()()()()()**

"Umm… what's this?" I asked, holding up the lump of what may have, at one point, been some sort of vegetable.

"Oh, I think that was a…" Grif trailed off, looking at me.

"You don't know, do you." I stated, sighing.

"Yeah… no." Grif replied. "You probably don't want to eat it."

"Thanks for the tip." I muttered, throwing the abomination against biology into the garbage can. I turned around. "I'm gonna go outside, see if I can't find that damn… actually, have you seen Sarge?"

"Nope." Grif answered, popping the p. "Don't know why I'd want to. He'd probably just threaten to kill me."

"Good point." I admitted, before stepping out the front door.

I looked around, smiling. No matter how much I saw of the place, the sheer beauty of the canyon never ceased to amaze. Maybe other people saw differently, but there was something about the light brown rock and green foliage, combined with the grey metal of the starship, that just looked _good_.

My gaze was slowly drawn upwards, to the cliffs, where I knew _someone_ was watching. The thought made me nervous, to be honest. I already knew Felix would turn out to be an enemy, and that the war was pointless, but now I had all this Freelancer bullshit to deal with on top of that. Wash kept looking at me with barely disguised suspicion, and who knew how Carolina would react!

Of course, memories were slowly returning. Mostly of a woman named Colorado, a man named Rhode, and Wash, as well as other Freelancers sprinkled in. I also had some sort of memory involving an AI, but I had no clue where that could be. I had checked my helmet for ages, looking everywhere, but I couldn't find any sort of storage unit, or even a slot for a data chip. I stopped and wondered if it hadn't maybe gone missing, but that seemed like a pretty big assumption.

What worried me most, however, was the fact that my memories involving Rhode and Colorado seemed to be semi-romantic, for both of them. I had briefly questioned if I was gay, but then memories featuring Colorado and I acting all romantic had filtered through as well, and those thoughts were shot down. Maybe Rhode and I just had some sort of hardcore bromance going on? That seemed like the most likely option.

I looked to my left at the sound of footsteps, and saw Caboose running past me, muttering something about repairs.

"Hello Mr. Talky Gun Person." He said, briefly addressing me. "I am going to go fix something now."

"Umm… alright." I replied, watching him go.

Sometimes Caboose addressed me in as 'Mr. Talky Gun Person' for seemingly no reason. Well, there was a reason, but it was kind of… odd. I had taken up speaking to Super Good Advice, out of some sort of habit. I had to admit, it made me feel better, and sometimes I could swear the ammunition light on the gun blinked in response to me. I had no idea why, maybe it was a glitch or something.

I decided to stop reminiscing on nicknames and the reasoning behind them, and started focusing on figuring out what the hell I was going to do about Wash's suspicion of me, as well as all the other problems that were coming my way. I ran a quick list through my head.

-Freckles. Very dangerous, but easy to survive so long as I'm polite to Caboose. Not a problem, since I was already nice to Caboose. It's hard to hate someone whose closest resemblance is a confused puppy.

-Locus and Felix. Dangerous, but so long as I didn't stray too far from the script of the show, I should be alright. I had confidence in my combat abilities, as well as prerequisite knowledge of the situation at hand.

-The Federal Army. This would be a pain, since I knew they would be fighting me under orders from a villain, but I also knew I would have to fight. There was no room for mercy on the battlefield, but if I could talk them down, I would. Of course, if I ended up alongside Wash and Donut, and got captured by them, I'd just have to wait it out.

-The New Republic. This would be a bit of an issue, but if I ended up on the side of the New Republic, I was going to avoid the Reds and Blues rescue mission. I would prefer to be there to prevent as many casualties in the city as possible.

-The Charon Corporation. This would be a bitch, since I had no idea what to expect beyond 'there's gonna be a guy with them who I now know will have inside knowledge into my psyche that even _I_ don't have, on account of amnesia.'

Not to mention the fact that, since I had no idea what to expect from Season Thirteen, outside of the aforementioned 'dude who knows me better than I know myself' thing. Great. This would be fun.

Not.

 **()()()()()**

" _Umm… what?" I asked, looking at the leaderboard again._

 _Yep, there I was. Number four, now above both North and South Dakota. How the hell I managed to get there from my former place at number seven, I had no idea._

" _Agent Utah, thanks to your quick thinking and remarkable tactical ability, you have been moved up the leaderboard, past your two compatriots on your previous mission." The Director said, snapping me out of my musings._

 _My eyes were drawn to where the twins who had raided the arctic research platform with me were standing, quickly judging their reactions. North was nodding politely, obviously displeased, but not looking like he begrudged me either. His sister was a different story, evidently being on the verge of entering a fit of rage, judging by her heavy breathing and immense scowl. I noted Colorado was standing behind her, smiling at me._

" _Thank you, sir." I replied politely, my eyes not leaving the infuriated blonde._

" _You_ _ **said**_ _the mission was a success,_ _ **sir**_ _." South growled, filling the word sir with as much venom as she could muster._

" _The primary requirement of the operation was stealth, Agent South Dakota. Were it not for Agent Utah's quick thinking, you would likely be dead at the bottom of the ocean as of right now." The Director countered. "Your failure to follow your brother's directives has led to the enemy knowing we are coming for them now."_

 _South only scowled in response, looking away from the Director. Her brother put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, directing her scowl at him instead. North only stepped back, hands up in a placating gesture._

" _If there aren't any more questions, that will be all for this debriefing." The Director said._

 _The assembled Freelancers began to split off, eventually leaving Colorado, North, South and I alone in the room._

" _We both know it was blind luck that got you through that last op," South began. "So I'm gonna prove I'm better than you."_

" _That a challenge, South?" I asked, raising one eyebrow coolly. Inside my heart rate was increasing, however. It was unlikely I could take on South Dakota in a one-on-one fight._

" _Yeah it is, dickhead." South replied, stepping forwards so her face was right in mine. "In the training arena, in ten minutes."_

" _Very well then." I said, nodding. "What weapons, and what gear?"_

" _Full armour, any gun you want." South said. "Even that fucking overcompensation cannon of yours."_

 _I slapped her in the face at that. A clean backhand, directly in the right cheek, administered with my left hand._

" _You will refrain from insulting Super Good Advice." I said, my voice dropping to a lower, more threatening pitch._

 _North stepped forwards, frowning, but South shoved him back with both hands, before turning to slap me right back. I took the blow without so much as wincing, but internally flinched. Damn this woman had a good arm!_

" _Then it's official." I said, before turning to leave. "Ten minutes."_

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

 **To anyone who is confused, David took the place of Carolina in the episode 'The Twins' in this universe. More explanation will come in following chapters.**

 **Have a lovely day!**


	5. Chapter 5

The Man in Burgundy

 **Chapter Five: Keep Your Friends Close…**

 **Woot woot, more of this!**

 **Let's go!**

 **(Note: Almost the entire chapter is a flashback.)**

 **()()()()()()()()()()**

" _Fucking hell, South!" I muttered angrily, kicking another guard off the edge of the platform. She just had to fuck this up, and now we were paying the price!_

 _I rolled beneath a sloppy punch made by a white-armoured guard, turning and bringing my elbow into his head, before kicking his buddy in the chest, pushing him into the cluster of guards behind him. I pulled Super Good Advice off my back, opening fire and bringing down almost a half a dozen guards by holding the trigger._

 _North and South were remarkably coordinated, and I observed South throwing North a shotgun just in time to take out a charging enemy. To be honest, it seemed a little bit overdone, but whatever floats your boat, I supposed._

 _My attention was turned back to the fight at hand, two guards opening fire with their rifles, only for me to gun them both down, smiling. I noted the sniper moving into position on a gantry way ahead of me, and grabbed a guard by the chest piece, running him ahead of me as a shield. I felt him jerk and heard him scream as his companion shot him, and I raised his freshly dead body and threw it at the sniper, knocking the man from his platform into the water below._

 _I lost sight of North and South for a while, mostly because of my taking an alternate route through the facility. I still heard gunfire and yelling, though, so I presumed they were still alive, at least. Then the gunfire stopped._

 _I found myself in the door leading to a catwalk, which was currently bristling with enemy troops. Seriously, there were dozens._

" _Attention assholes!" A man in red and black ODST armour yelled. He was operating a machine gun turret, but had a shotgun on his back. "We have you surrounded!"_

 _Way to state the obvious, I thought, crouching and quietly moving past the distracted guards. None of them turned around, and I managed to reach the ODST with relative ease. He was still talking, I noted, and so I punched him in the head. He went down like a sack of bricks, and I grabbed the machine gun turret, firing at the other gantry way. The soldiers there started leaping to the platform below, leading to them engaging the twins in melee. That wouldn't end well._

 _The guards on my catwalk, however, were all very surprised to see me, and started rushing me. I kicked one off the catwalk, before opening up with Super Good Advice. The enemy horde crumbled under my fire, white armoured soldiers falling to the ground like puppets with their strings cut._

 _The ODST stood back up, and went for his shotgun. I beat him to the punch, literally, and drilled him in the chest with my fist. He took up a fighting pose, and we started exchanging punches and kicks. A foot slammed into my ribcage, but I countered by hammering my knuckles into his skull. His own fist came at my head, and I leaned to the side before spinning a full three-hundred-sixty degrees and kicking him into the water below._

 _The rest of the guards seemed to back up at this, and several turned and ran outright. I noted someone had shot North several times in the chest, and he was leaning on his sister for support._

" _Four-Seven-Niner, we need evac, now." I said, two fingers to my helmet. "Prepare to pick us up in ten."_

" _Ten what?" The pilot asked._

" _Seconds." I answered, jumping from the platform and landing feet-first on a guards shoulders._

 _I sprinted to the twins, grabbing them each by a shoulder._

" _It's time we buggered out!" I said, pulling them both off the platform while simultaneously praying Four-Seven-Niner would get there in time._

 _()()()_

" _This match will be taking place between Agent Utah and Agent South Dakota." The Directors voice rang out over the training arena, as I grabbed Super Good Advice, now loaded with lockdown paint. "The winner will receive or maintain the position of number four on the leaderboard, while the loser will take or maintain their place."_

 _I cocked Super Good Advice, looking at the pink-armoured South with a light grin on my face. I had forgone my ivory helmet, supposedly a choice I would regret, but I didn't care. I would have her look me in the face as she won or lost, as she had also chosen to go bare-headed. I wasn't discounting the possibility of losing, it had only been my quick-thinking that had gotten us out of there alive._

" _Match will begin in three… two… one… go!" The Director said, and I was off._

 _I opened up with Super Good Advice from the hip, as South fired her pistol with reckless abandon. I felt something strike my shoulder, but it was quickly drowned out by my adrenaline. This would be a melee fight, and little more. She came at me with her right fist raised to knock my head off, but I ducked the blow and swept her legs out from under her._

 _She leapt to her feet, and kicked me in the gut, but I grabbed her foot and pulled. Hard. I heard her leg wrench and the cry she let out as I used her momentum to leave her parallel to the ground, before I hammered my fist in her face, slamming her into the concrete floor. She made to punch me, but she was obviously dazed from the pain and the impact of her skull on the ground, and I easily grabbed the offending arm and twisted hard, dislocating the elbow._

 _I had no idea why I was being so brutal. I drilled my fist into her stomach, as she tried to beat me away with her left hand. I rose and stomped her in the left shoulder, hearing a definite crack. I stomped again, feeling her left leg break, and when she made to bite me in the face, I drilled my forehead into hers, before rising and kicking her in the temple twice, leaving her out cold._

 _I lost my mind. My fist was up and down and up and down and up and down and there was blood everywhere and I faintly heard calls to cease and desist and my mind screamed at my body to stop but god damn it this woman nearly got North and I killed and up and down and up and down…_

 _Then I snapped out of my frenzy._

 _It was like I had just woken up, I was so dazed. I looked at her, every limb either broken or dislocated at several joints, and cried out for a medic, picking her up gently off the ground. I was tearing up at the eyes, and looked at my hand, realizing I had broken several fingers from beating on her._

 _Three white clothed medics ran into the room, two of them placing South on a stretcher while the third inspected my hand. He did something, pulled on each finger in such a way that they seemed to pop back into the correct positions. That didn't matter to me, I was too busy wondering what the fuck had happened, and why had I beaten on South like that._

 _I looked up to the observation deck, where North was only watching with an expression blending terror and rage, Carolina had raised an eyebrow, Colorado looked almost shocked, and the rest of the Freelancers seemed to be panicking. I felt a prickling in my shoulder, and I looked down, seeing a neat hole drilled in my left shoulder-plate. And three more in my upper left chest._

 _Someone had given South live ammo._

 _I ran over to where South had stood when she fired, the pain from the bullet wound only now filtering through the adrenaline pounding through my veins and into my heart. There, eight gleaming shell-casings sat on the floor, scattered randomly across the concrete. I looked back to my firing position, seeing it was clear of shell casings. Only South had been playing for keeps, it seemed. But who had given that to her, and why?_

 _I felt a light tugging on my arm, but I ignored it in favour of thinking. Then I was being grabbed by two very large hands, each one wrapping itself around my upper arms, and being turned physically to face Agent Maine and a medical officer, who I thought was saying something about injuries but I was really tired and everything was turning black and what was that prickling in the back of my neck and where was I what was going on WHY DID I FAIL THEM._

 _Then I blacked out._

 _()()()_

"Men, meet Lopez dos-point-o."

"…Does it talk?"

"Hola."

"Motherfucker!"

Yep, Lopez still spoke Spanish. I knew a little Spanish, mostly thanks to some education I couldn't remember the details of but seemed to result in me being fluent in several languages, but Spanish was not on my 'I can speak this really well but I can't remember why' list. Shame about that.

"Spanish again? Why?!" Simmons asked exasperatedly.

"Does this happen a lot?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah, Sarge likes robots that nobody understands." Grif explained, shrugging. "I don't really care why, though."

I looked at the brown-armoured robot, deciding to cease the initiative.

"Lopez Dos-Point-O, could you fix the radio tower?" I asked politely.

"Dónde está?" He asked. 'Where is it?' Alright, I could do this.

"Follow me." I said.

Around a minute later, we were standing in front of the radio tower, where Wash and Tucker were bickering like an old married couple and 'fixing' the radio tower. I simply observed the two for a second, a bemused smile coming to my face, before I shook my head.

"Hey Wash, need any help with the radio tower?" I called.

"No! Go away!" He yelled back, pressing more buttons. I looked back at Lopez.

"You can understand English, correct?" I asked.

"Si." The brown robot replied, nodding.

"I need you to go fix the radio tower. Just make it work." I said, gesturing to the tall structure.

"Si." Lopez repeated, marching to the tower.

"Damn it, Walker, slow down!" Sarge said, after running after us.

"Sorry sir, I was just getting Lopez to work on the radio tower." I explained, looking over to the brown robot.

Sarge's helmet followed my own, and he visibly loosened up. "That'll get the job done." He said, sounding pleased. "Now then, let's just wait for the blues to finish up and then we'll have a ride outta this joint. Reminds me of my time in Vietnam…"

Those last seven words sent a tremor running through my spine and a vision of several smiling soldiers and I posing for a photo. I shook my head, clearing my mind, even as goosebumps formed on the back of my neck. I knew for a fact that that had been a memory, but where the heck had it come from?

I was not looking forwards to my dreams that night.

 **()()()()()()**

 **Well, that's a wrap for chapter five! Hope you enjoyed this sneak peek into Walkers past, and have a lovely day!**


End file.
